


Drive

by isoldembd



Series: Free time [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 04:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isoldembd/pseuds/isoldembd
Summary: When Dean takes a drive.





	Drive

Sometimes, when it all becomes unbearable, when the sorrow seeps so far down into the bones that it hurts to walk, when the pain is bubbling up past the throat choking and gagging, Dean likes to go for a drive. Doesn’t matter the time, although it’s usually during the silent hours when everything bad seems to come alive and throw you against the wall with its guilt and shame, he’ll throw on his jacket recycled from the army surplus store, tie his combat boots until they are pressing pink indentations into his skin, grab his keys and go north. Always north; north means forward, forward away from the memories and the fires in his belly. Being raised on the road, born and bred on Route 66, he finds nothing but pure comfort in the cracks and chipped paint stretching for miles in every direction. As the road wraps around the countryside, Dean can feel its ghosted arms wrapping themselves around him, too. Like the open road is saying ‘come to me, I’ll keep you safe. I only go forward, never back where all of your sadness lies and nests and waits for you to return to it. I’ll take you far away, you can feel free and whole again. Just come with me, we can travel away together.’ 

 

But Dean never falls into that trap, he knows the road will swallow him whole and take him too far away, so far that he’ll only be able to remember how to keep running, never turning around; he’ll forget his life and keep driving until his tires blow and he’s left dead in the gravel. In another life, he would have taken that option. He’s not afraid to fly through the windshield, glass glinting in the sunlight like stars twinkling at night. He’s not afraid to drink until he can barely see and hit 80 in a 40 zone, colliding with a tree until he crumples like the metal of the hood and shatters like the windows. He’s not afraid of any of it. There’s nothing left to be scared of anymore. He knows Heaven and Hell, he’s seen them, experienced them first hand. He’s died enough times to drive him insane, and maybe it has.

 

His life is meaningless, worthless, there’s nothing that can redeem him anymore, his soul forever damned, and he’s okay with all of it. He knows he is expendable. And he also knows that his family is the only thing that tethers him back, a bungee cord in a free fall. When he drives so fast it feels like the wheels are lifting off of the ground, he sees Sam’s face, feels Castiel’s hands, and he hits the brakes remembering why he can’t leave just yet. Even though his life is meaningless, he has people he has to live for. 

 

On the nights he drives, he can feel the cork on the bottle pop open and every bad thing that’s  ever happened to him comes pouring out. He can see every wrong he’s ever done flash before his eyes, a film reel stuck on repeat. For the few hours he’s truly alone with his thoughts, he lets them dig into his flesh and tear him apart. Sometimes, he yells and lets his voice go hoarse. Sometimes, he sits perfectly still, wishing someone would walk into the road and tell him exactly what he has to do to never feel like this again. And sometimes, he cries. He cries and cries until his face is scrunched up and his breath is hitching and he has to pull over to sob into his hands. He slams his hands against the steering wheel, pulls his hair, and lets it all take him for a moment.

 

And then, he wipes his face, changes gears, pulls a U-turn and goes back to the people that save him from himself everyday.


End file.
